Now When I Want You
by HatOff
Summary: Georg and Maria discover that every want, every desire and every happiness is found in each other. "Is it- is it always going to be like this?" Rated T. For now.
1. Chapter 1

After The Gazebo

It was a beautiful evening, peaceful and calm, the moon turning everything around the gazebo silver. Georg von Trapp was utterly content. Over the course of the summer, he had finally been able to lay aside the mantle of grief he'd worn for years. True, he had remained stubbornly persistent about his plan to marry Elsa Schrader, long after he should have seen the truth – but that was all behind him now. In the last few hours, he had realized, finally, that his hopes for his family's future, and an undreamed-of second chance for his own happiness, rested with the young woman he now held in a tender embrace.

It hadn't come as a complete surprise, to be sure: her physical charms and sparkling personality had been welcome distractions all summer. He owed her a debt he could never repay for the change she'd wrought in his family. And he'd lived long enough to be able to recognize the effect he was having on her, starting long before that memorable evening when they had danced together in the garden. He knew how close he'd come to kissing her that night, and that only the presence of his children had spared them. And then she had mysteriously run away. He could scarcely believe he'd been given this second chance to win her.

Still, he hadn't been sure, exactly, how to approach her. He knew almost nothing of her past, or her personal life before her short-lived career at Nonnberg Abbey. So, feeling uncharacteristically awkward, he had broached the subject of their mutual feelings indirectly, and had kissed and embraced her gently, giving her every opportunity to resist. He told her he loved her, and then, as new lovers do, they had traded the usual stories of, "when did you first know?" Only then, certain of her response, had he asked her to marry him.

He was not entirely prepared for her reaction; no sooner had she accepted his proposal than, wrapping her arms around her neck, her lips sought his as she kissed him enthusiastically, if a little clumsily. It was a surprising turn of events, and a delightful one that he quickly took advantage of, burrowing his hands into the golden silk of her hair, running his tongue gently along her lips and then happily settling in to learn her mouth. If the young woman who had haunted his dreams every night for weeks had ever been kissed before now, it was not by someone who knew what he was doing. But she was a fast learner, her mouth lush and responsive. She was completely irresistible.

Maria still couldn't quite believe what was happening. It was as though the world itself had shifted on its axis since her disastrous return from the Abbey only hours ago. Could this really be the man who had intimidated, charmed, infuriated and fascinated her all summer? She knew she wasn't dreaming, because she could never have been imaginative enough, or brave enough, to invent what she was experiencing: the scrape of his cheek against hers, the roughness of his jacket against her skin, the way he smelled and tasted, the astonishing intimacy of the way he explored her mouth, the feeling of his body pressed up against hers, the surprising discovery that someone so formidable could have such a gentle touch.

Having started to kiss her Captain, Maria wasn't sure what would ever make her want to stop. For a man who had seemed so physically imposing, it turned out that his body fit together with hers quite nicely. It was hardly the first time she'd been kissed, but up till now, she hadn't quite appreciated how kissing could be a whole-body experience. But in those few minutes, Maria learned quite a bit about kissing she hadn't known before. She was enjoying it so much that she felt a little stab of disappointment when his lips left hers, only to change her mind rather quickly when he trailed kisses along her neck to her ear, the wet heat of his mouth leaving trails of fire behind.

By now, his earlier feeling of contentment had ignited into desire. He dared himself to explore her curves, his hands moving restlessly from front to back, from shoulder to hip and then back to her shoulders again, sliding inside the wide sleeves of her dress. He couldn't resist the urge to fan his fingers out until they spanned the soft skin of her back, which felt like pressed velvet to his touch. He waited for her to recoil, an apology ready on his lips, but from the way she relaxed into his hands, and her satisfied little murmur, he gathered that his attentions were welcome.

The sensations were coming at Maria faster than she could absorb them, so fast she could hardly breathe. No sooner had his fingers skimmed, light as a feather, across her breasts and down the curve of her back to her hips, than they sought out her bare shoulder. The first touch of his hands on her back was like an electric shock, the skin burning wherever he touched her. She felt no instinct to pull away – she loved and admired this man, and trusted him completely, and anyway, her brain had apparently been taken over by some new part of her that could hardly wait for the next caress.

They were so wrapped up in each other that they barely noticed the way the weather had changed. Clouds covered the moon until the gazebo was lost in shadow, a cool breeze found its way through the doorway, and a few sharp drops of rain pinged against the gazebo's glass walls. A loud clap of thunder sounded, but Georg was oblivious. He could hear nothing but the blood pounding in his ears, could see nothing but her tempting mouth and those fiery blue eyes. A new rush of longing overtook him, and he pulled her against him so hard he lifted her off her feet. But she didn't protest, offering only a gentle whimper before she melted into him. His mouth trailed along her neck again and she shuddered. He held her closely, pulled his face away from hers and for the first time in minutes, he managed to speak.

"You're cold..."

Dazed, she managed a half-smile. "I'm not cold. I'm…" She couldn't find the word she wanted, but she could tell from his smile that he understood her. Reaching for him again, she twined her fingers in his hair, and pulled his face back toward hers. She felt wild, and free, hungry for more of his touches. Her conscience tugged at her briefly: surely this behavior, these feelings, were sinful, were the exact things she'd been warned against ever since she was a little girl. But this was her Captain: honorable, brave, a man of principle. He would never harm her! She reveled in the way his breath came in ragged gasps against her cheek as he spoke.

"Maria. Let me take you inside. It's cold and damp out here, and I-" He broke off in midsentence, his thoughts and feelings hopelessly tangled. He couldn't possibly tell her what he really wanted, that he could not get enough of her while standing upright in the middle of a glass-walled building.

A moment later, in wordless agreement, they were walking quickly back to the house, side-by-side, but without any contact. Maria understood that they had to avoid the risk of being seen touching, but still, she mourned the reassurance of physical contact with him. She stole a sideways look at him, the way his face had assumed its formal, aristocratic mask again, and her heart dropped just a little bit. Whatever magic had happened in the gazebo, clearly, that moment was behind them. Well, of course, the important thing was that he loved her, the way she loved him. She supposed there were practical things people had to discuss when they decided to get married. Perhaps he might even want to keep things a secret, just between the two of them, for a while.

But in fact, while he looked composed, Georg's thoughts were racing wildly out of control. He didn't know what shocked him more: the ardent response of his young, convent-sprung bride, or his own rapidly diminishing loss of self-control. Georg was a planner, a strategist who never lost control, but from the moment she'd returned everything happened so fast and he was operating purely on instinct, instincts that were clearly dangerous. It was relief, in part, at finally being able to act on the feelings that had been tugging at him all summer, and there was something about her mix of innocence and passion that might almost drive him mad.

And that was the problem. From the moment he'd stood on the balcony and watched her wander along the lakeside, he had vowed to protect her from any future harm, to take care of her for the rest of his life. But how could he be her protector when he was clearly on the verge of doing her very great damage? He'd thought that they'd both be protected by her innocence, that things would move slowly between them because she wouldn't know any other way. Would the very fact of his love be enough to protect her from harm?

The truth was, he had few instincts when it came to young women like Maria. He'd spent a rakish youth pursuing the kind of women who needed no protection; he'd never cared much for innocent, virginal girls until he met the one who stole his heart and satisfied his every desire until she left him with seven children and an empty life. Since then, there had been a hollow encounter or two that only left him feeling more alone and in deep despair, and his relationship with Elsa, more a friendship than anything else. He had never expected another chance to feel the kind of passion that had seized him in the gazebo.

A few stray raindrops cooled his skin, and with it, came a new resolve: he would have to be strong for the both of them. It would be up to him to slow things down, and if he'd never found himself in this situation before, surely his love for her would keep both of them strong. He would do anything to avoid hurting her. He felt confident enough in his newly-found resolve that he steered her toward his study, where they could talk for a while longer. He still didn't know why she'd run away that night. In fact, there was a great deal he didn't know about her, and he wanted to know everything. He stepped aside to let her enter the room, turned to close the door behind him and then, thinking of Franz, and out of an excess of caution, he locked it behind him.

When he heard that lock click closed, he had to fight against the desire to take her in his arms again, as though he'd been deprived of her for weeks, not minutes. And one look at Maria confirmed that she'd need very little encouragement. She was standing in the middle of the room, mesmerized, her lips parted, her face a rosy glow, those blue eyes flickering with something he'd never seen there before. He looked away before those eyes could steal his willpower entirely.

Maria looked up to catch sight of herself in a mirror hanging over the leather couch, and she barely recognized the woman who looked back at her: lips red and swollen, hair in disarray, eyes dark with something unrecognizable. She had barely caught her breath, and so when she spoke, her own voice sounded unfamiliar, deep and ragged.

"Is it – is it always like this?" She turned away from the mirror and studied him; although his hair was damp and disheveled, and his eyes were a stormy, dangerous blue, still, he looked so proper, suit jacket buttoned and tie still neatly in place. She wondered how could someone so _correct _could make her feel like doing such wicked things.

"No." He shook his head, looking bewildered, and ran his hands through hair. "I think it's – like at sea, when the wind changes after a storm. You've fought against something so powerful for so long, you've pushed back against it with everything you've got, and finally, when it turns and heads the right way, you can relax and let it take hold of you, and the speed, the power, the rush, it's intoxicating. This has been building up for so long. Being able to hold you, to touch you like that-"

She felt herself blush everywhere at those words, and her breath quickened.

He went on. "It's as though I've awakened – all summer, I was suspended, somehow. Ready to let go of everything I'd lost. But afraid of the future. I'm still afraid for the future. But if you'll marry me, I think..."

"If?" she asked. "I already said yes! You can't take it back."

"I have no intention of taking it back. But are you sure you know what you're doing, Maria? Tell me the truth. Before tonight, did you think about getting married? Even once?'

She laughed. "Of course I did. Just not for the last year or two." She watched him walk across the room and open a drawer in his desk. "What are you doing?'

"Having a drink. To calm myself down," he laughed, producing a bottle and a glass.

"Then I need one too."

He raised an eyebrow, but then nodded and handed her another glass with a splash of whiskey in it. She tossed it back, the way she'd seen him do it, only to erupt into fits of coughing and choking as the whiskey burned its way down her throat. He rubbed her back, soothingly, and that was a mistake, because she gave a little gasp, arching her back at the memory of way his hand had felt against her bare skin.

And that was all it took to start them up again. Kissing her hungrily, he pushed against her forcefully until she was backed up against the desk, papers and books scattering around them. His hands and mouth returned to exploring any bare skin he could reach.

Maria wanted to reciprocate, to act on the urges pulsing out from her brain, but her hands were behind her on the desk, bracing herself against the welcome onslaught. With a determined little grunt, she lifted her hands to his chest and pushed him just far enough away to let her tunnel her arms under his jacket and along his shoulders. She only had to push at his jacket for a moment before he got the idea. Smiling against her lips, he removed his hands from her body long enough to allow his jacket to slide to the floor.

She'd surprised herself by being so daring, but her boldness was rewarded: now she was able to embrace him, to feel the heat of his body through his shirt, to trace the muscles paving either side of his spine. Once again, she marveled at the contrast between the formal, restrained aristocrat she'd known until tonight – she wasn't sure she'd even ever seen him without a jacket – and the powerful man who bent over her, devouring her mouth, his hands somehow touching her everywhere at once. His mouth moved on to a spot on her neck that had apparently been waiting her whole life for him to discover, that threatened to melt her entirely.

"How long?" she gasped.

"Until?"

"Until we can - be together."

"About five minutes," he would have said, except that her forthright question left him speechless, his breath caught in his chest until he thought he might pass out. Choking for air, he broke away from her, loosening his tie as he paced the room, struggling to regain his composure after that last fierce embrace. "You mean until the wedding? A month or two, I'd imagine, the banns, the planning-" He watched her face fall and his mind raced, looking for a way to fix things "Unless…"

"Unless what?" she asked.

"No, no, it wouldn't be…"

"Tell me," she demanded.

He closed his eyes and sighed . "You can get a special license. I mean, if you have certain kinds of influence. It allows you to marry with only a day's wait. The Church goes along with it, they just bless the marriage later. But it's usually used if you're caught in legal difficulties, or a scandal, or…"

"What would you call this?" she asked, with an uncharacteristically witless giggle, and he laughed despite himself.

"Don't tempt me, Maria."

"It makes a certain amount of sense, you know," she argued. "You've already had a great big wedding, and I don't want one. A second marriage. Seven children. Our country in the middle of a crisis and all."

"People will talk," he warned her. "Has it occurred to you that if we have a child right away, they will say-"

"People are going to talk anyway."

"I couldn't do that to you." He shook his head. "You'd regret it someday."

"Like I told you," she said dryly. "Whatever girlish fantasies I might have had these last years, a wedding was not among them."

The idea was intriguing. There _would_ be a certain amount of talk about their marriage in any event. Perhaps a rapid wedding would get them past the gossip more quickly. But – if he were perfectly honest with himself - that wasn't the major reason he was considering it. The major reason was standing only a few feet away from him, breathing heavily, looking as luscious and ripe as a summer peach.

There was no avoiding it. He wanted her, and he could no more resist her than he could will his heart to stop beating, his lungs to stop breathing. He wanted her under him, skin against skin, as close as two people could be, and if the touch of his hands on her back had made her sigh, he could only imagine the sounds that angelic voice would make when…

She moved quickly across the room to his side. "Please. Please do it. For me. I _need_ you to," she said urgently, and while he knew she was referring to the special license, still, the sound of her voice begging him tipped him over the edge.

"For you? Anything. Maria. You can have anything you want from me. Always," he whispered hoarsely, and he meant it, he would do anything for her. The rough passion in his voice made her knees buckle, and then it was his turn to tip her, physically, to follow her down as she slowly crumpled beneath him onto the big leather couch. He fit his body to hers carefully, and then his mind went blank, barely registering the gradual way her purrs of contentment turned to broken sighs.

Maria was not a complete innocent. She'd grown up like any other girl, curious about boys and kissing games, hungrily reading anything romantic she could get her hands on. She'd spent four years at a progressive college, and while her lot seemed to be bashful boys who held her hand at concerts and apologized for the occasional timid kiss, she had befriended plenty of girls who were living far more adventurous lives. And so she had heard all about things between men and women: what went where, who did what, the seemingly endless drama of what liberties to allow, and so on.

But she hadn't really understood it, not at all. Just as easily as one moment turned into the next, it was so instinctive, so effortless: the way his gentle kisses had turned demanding, the way his light touches had become caresses that spread fire wherever he touched her. Her heart was kicking at her ribs, her blood was singing, and her body was telling her what to do next as though she'd done this a million times before; it seemed as though the most natural thing in the world would be for them to lie skin to skin, for him to touch her everywhere, for her to do the same to him.

With her body underneath him, kissing her was no longer enough. He was like an aroused schoolboy, incapable of restraint. Gone were the principled reminders that she was not like the other women he'd been with. Her dress would not give him the access he craved, and he let his hand drift down her side, along her waist and beyond. His fingers teased a sensitive space behind her knee and then, slowly, he eased her skirt upward until he could explore new territory: soft skin, the occasional ridge of a garter, lace and satin.

The gentle graze and occasional soft flick of those fingers made her toes curl and a thousand butterflies take flight low in her belly; she found herself pushing up against the solid weight of his body and smiled to herself at what she discovered. Now it was clearer than ever what went where. Delighted and emboldened by the effect she was having on him, she relished his low growl and the way he moved against her.

The die was cast, he realized. She wasn't going to stop him, and, half-mad with desire, it seemed he was incapable of stopping himself. But it wasn't the way he wanted her, or what she deserved, not the first time, half-clothed on a couch. His mind racing ahead, he looked up, his eyes straying across the room as he gasped, "Maria. Wait. Just let me think…"

Her eyes were lazy with pleasure. "I don't want you to think. I don't want you to stop. I want you to kiss me like this, all night. I'll die if you stop." She pulled him toward her again and set her mouth to where he had loosened his tie, learning his collarbone and the warm skin below.

A brief snort of laughter. "You're not going to die, darling, I promise you. Whatever else happens." She looked up to follow his eyes across the room. He seemed to be looking at … a closet?

"Why are you looking at the closet door?" she asked, her voice amused and impatient.

"It's not a closet, he said with difficulty. "It's a back stairway. It goes…upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

He swallowed. "To the master suite."

"And?" she said, so softly he could barely hear her. Those eyes would be his undoing, the way they shimmered with desire and innocence all at once, so that he couldn't even tell whether he was making the decision or she'd already made it for them. He paused again, straining to hear his conscience over the pounding of his blood in his ears.

She didn't say a word; she was leaving it to him, but the way her body moved against his, the way she'd already learned the rhythm, there was really no choice at all.

"If I asked, you would let me take you up there right now, wouldn't you?" And then, wanting to be sure there was no mistake, he added, "Into my bed."

She nodded, not taking her eyes from his.

His voice was rougher than he intended. "Say it. Say it, Maria. Tell me. Because once I…"

She cut him off. "I know you. I trust you. I _need_ you. We've promised to marry each other. There is nowhere you would take me that I wouldn't follow. "

He was shaken to his core, torn between all the different ways he wanted to love her. Well, none of them were going to happen lying entangled on the couch, so reluctantly, he sat up, pulling her into his lap, hushing her little moan of protest with a quick kiss. Holding her hands tightly to his chest, he paused before beginning to speak.

"You need me? I know exactly what you need, and I'm going to make sure you get it. I'm going to take you upstairs, but slowly, stopping to kiss you on every step until you beg me to hurry, and then I will ravish you, properly, the way you deserve," he wanted to say,

…but he heard himself saying, "We need to take it slowly, darling, you deserve a proper engagement and wedding night, even if they're only a day or two apart."

"But-" she tried to interrupt, but he gently traced her mouth with his fingers, as though asking her to let him say his piece. He knew that he'd be lost if she begged him again.

"I will love you until I draw my last breath. But I'll admit that I didn't expect things to – heat up quite the way they did." He gave her a little half-smile. "It's not that I don't want you, God, I can hardly bear it, I want you so much. I thought this part of me had died along with … after we're married, you will find out that I…" He broke off, as though afraid to say too much, and then he started again. "My motives right now are purely selfish. You deserve better, and I know that you _think_ this is what you want, but you're wrong."

She opened her mouth against his fingers, intent on objecting, and he quieted her with a brief kiss.

"Let me finish. From the very start, you haven't been afraid to tell me the truth, even when no one else had the courage for it. And now, much as I don't want to do it, I am telling you what I _know _to be true: this is not the way it's supposed to be. I don't even know where you've been for the last few weeks, why you left me, or why you came back, but I know what it must have been like for you today out there on those steps, I-". He couldn't finish the thought, overwhelmed with guilt.

"I have already hurt you once, although I don't quite understand all of it yet. I'll be damned if I'm going to do it again intentionally. You say that you trust me? Then trust me, Maria. Wait. It's only a day or two and I promise you, it will be… better than you can even imagine."

And then the most amazing thing happened. His bride didn't protest, she didn't argue. She … yawned, a tiny, dainty little yawn, but it broke the tension between them and they laughed together, giddy, exhausted, delighted with each other.

"I don't think I've ever had a woman yawn in my arms before," he reflected.

She gave an comically exaggerated sigh. "At least I'll be your first for something."

They sat quietly for a moment, letting the fires die down, both of them a little wistful.

"Maria. Tonight. I hope I didn't – I probably scared you half to death."

"No," she smiled weakly, "the only thing frightening me is that I'm going to wake up in the morning and find out this was all a dream."

"You have dreams like this? About me?" he teased.

She hesitated, and then nodded, slowly, biting back a guilty smile, watching for his reaction. "Did you?"

He nodded, closing his eyes at the memory of how hard he'd struggled for weeks to avoid his growing attraction to her.

"The only thing is," she said, "I always woke up in the middle, I could never ... how _do_ they end?"

He laughed. "If I tell you, you _will_ be frightened. And anyhow, I'd rather show you than tell you. It's only a day or two more."

"I've already got a much better idea, after tonight," she twinkled, and then she let herself yawn widely. "I _am_ exhausted, I'll admit it. I woke up this morning behind the iron gates of a cloister with a wimple on my head, had my heart broken" – her voice wavered for a moment - "and ended up the day with seven children, a fiancé and half my garters unhooked."

He grinned and, in one fluid movement, eased her off his lap and stood, pulling her to her feet. "Let's go upstairs. Uh, using the regular stairway. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and we both could use some rest."

But something held her back as he tried to lead her out of the room. "I don't want to go to up there. To my room." He wouldn't understand, of course, her lingering memories of the humiliating conversation with Baroness Schrader, or the long hour she'd spent weeping earlier today after her return. Instead she repeated, "I really am afraid I'll wake up and it all will have been a dream."

"Look," he said, "how about this? Tomorrow I'll buy you a proper ring…"

"I don't want a big ring, what am I going to do with that?"

"We can argue about that tomorrow. It's good to know we'll still have things to argue about. For now, though," he stopped and tugged the signet ring from his finger. "Take this. If you wake up in the middle of the night, you'll remember. We're just down the hall from each other and we'll be apart only a few nights more at that."

She felt her cheeks turn red at the reference to the change in bedrooms – another mystery, she thought, how she could behave so wantonly, so shamelessly and not even feel guilty about it, but be completely mortified at the thought that anyone else might figure out what a properly married couple was doing behind closed doors. She tucked that riddle away in her mind, next to captains who were starchily correct in public and hotly passionate in private. She slipped the ring on her finger and together, they left the study and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

"How long have you had this ring?" she asked, and blanched at the answer – "it's about three centuries old, I think, but don't worry, Maria, you can't lose a ring between now and breakfast, and I'd rather have you than the ring anyway." On the landing – Franz or no Franz – he couldn't resist taking her in her arms one more time, relishing the way she clung to him.

She really did not want to go back to her room, until, suddenly, a memory bubbled up from somewhere inside her exhausted brain. "Come with me," she whispered, and taking his hand again, led him to her room and drew him inside, closing the door behind them. He inhaled sharply – they didn't stand a chance if things started up again, with her virginal bed was only a few feet away. But then she took both his hands in hers, as though she was going to dance with him.

"Remember? My first night here?" That was the way she ought to remember this room – how furious she'd been at him that first night, and how funny it was the way things were turning out. "I am their father," he had reminded her, and now she would be their mother. She closed her eyes, remembering the way the children – she'd barely had their names straight that night – frolicked around the room.

He smiled, despite the miserable memory of the way he'd behaved when he interrupted her singing and dancing madly with his children – their children, now. What a fool he'd been! He pulled her toward him but she stumbled over her own feet in fatigue. He was exhausted himself, how must she feel?

He led her to the bed. Her eyes were half-closed; docile as a child, she let him remove her shoes and raised her arms over her head, waiting patiently until he understood her signal and pulled her dress over her head. That small gesture overwhelmed him with tenderness: they had shared an experience so intimate that, without needing to ask, she trusted him to take care of her. Bearing almost all of her exhausted weight against one arm, he pulled back the quilt, deposited her on the bed, and covered her gently.

"Get some sleep," he whispered , and crept toward the door, only to stop suddenly.

"Maria."

"Mmmm."

"My name. You're going to have to call me by my name, you know."

"Tomorrow," she muttered sleepily.

He shrugged, opening the door. He almost didn't hear what came next.

"All right. Georg. But I forgot something else."

"What's that, Fraulein Maria?"

"I love you too."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N: We are a team of TSOM fanfic authors whose PMs last year have turned into this story. Read our profile to learn more! There are lots more chapters ahead, so please follow us and stay tuned. Don't own the movie, the characters, and so on, we just love writing about them.**


	2. Chapter 2

The Next Day

Maria paused outside his study. She was about to rap on the door for permission to enter, as she had so many times before. But then, smiling, she shook her head and pushed the door open without knocking.

He'd been standing by the window, looking out at the lake, apparently so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice her presence until she nudged him gently on the arm.

He jumped at her touch, and a half-smile crossed his face. "Will wonders never cease? You're down early for a change. Was there something you wanted?"

Without a word, she extended her outstretched hand to him, opening her fist to reveal his ring.

"What's this?" he asked. "So you've managed to convince yourself that it wasn't a dream?"

"Oh, no," Maria said hastily, although she knew he was joking. "I know it was real. My memories of last night are quite…vivid."

"Indeed," he commented, raising an eyebrow, his voice maddeningly unreadable.

"Like I said, I remember it. Although I still don't entirely believe it." This morning, she didn't need the ring to reassure her anymore, although she'd die of embarrassment before she'd tell him that he'd left another mark on her skin that would reassure her for days.

Maria reached for his hand. Turning his palm upward, she gently placed the ring there and curled his fingers over it. She held his fist in both her hands for a few seconds longer before giving it a meaningful squeeze and letting go.

"Well, you might as well sit down for a few minutes," was his only response, and he waved her toward the big leather couch. "And enjoy the quiet. Only a few minutes till all hell breaks loose, and then you're stuck with me."

Eagerly, she went to close the door, but he stopped her. "You should probably leave the door open."

Taking a seat on the couch, Maria watched him pace the room, appearing every bit as controlled and proper as ever. She could hardly believe that on this very same couch, only hours before, they had almost… and she'd felt no shame in it at all, only joy and pleasure. Her skin was still fresh with the memory of his touch, and her mouth was still tender from his fervent kisses. Now, here he was, buttoned up in a suit, acting as though none of it had happened, while she was finding it very difficult to think about anything else. She wondered when he would kiss her again. And she wished she was brave enough to step right in front of him, interrupt his pacing, wrap her arms around his neck, and fit her body against his.

She looked up to find him studying her, as though he could read her mind.

"Maria? Are you all right?"

"Yes, of course," she assured him, feeling her cheeks redden. "Tell me, what's going to happen? Today, I mean."

"We'll tell the children at breakfast. They'll be thrilled, of course."

"Are you sure? I mean, the older ones-they were not enthusiastic about your remarrying, did you know that?"

"Maria," he said firmly. "You know as well as I do that they were unhappy because of _who _I was planning to marry. You cannot even imagine how they pined for you when you left. And that's all there is to it. After breakfast, I'll inform Franz and Frau Schmidt. They'll notify the rest of the staff, of course. Then I'll go into Salzburg on my errands. As for you, I am sure you'd like to spend the morning with the children as you usually do, though I am not sure you'll be able to get much work out of them, they'll be so excited. I'll return by teatime, and then you and I will take care of some other details, such as-"

He caught himself. He sounded like he was on a ship, barking routine orders of the day to his men. If it all seemed strange to him, how much more so it must seem to her? He sat down next to her and squeezed her hand for a moment before dropping it, his eyes flicking to the open door. "How does all of that sound?"

"Fine, but I'd like to go to the Abbey in the afternoon, just for an hour or two. To see Reverend Mother, to tell her in person about – well, you know, how it all turned out. She only receives visitors in the afternoon, so I'll take the bus after lunch."

"You are not taking a bus," he interrupted.

"But I always take the bus," she pointed out. "It takes much longer to walk."

He rolled his eyes. "I was not suggesting you walk, for heaven's sake. You are not the governess anymore. You are about to become my wife, and my wife does _not _take the bus."

A sudden flash of anger from her blue eyes. "So that's what it's going to be like now? I am even more firmly under your command?"

He threw back his head and laughed. "We both know how long that would last!" And then his voice grew serious. "The truth is, Maria, Zeller's men – they are riding the buses now. Checking papers. I don't want you on the bus anymore. And that's all there is to it. Franz will drive you wherever you want to go."

"Franz?" She looked up, confused.

"Yes, just ask him to take you. Anywhere you like. I'll drive myself in after breakfast in the other car."

"Oh, Georg, please, I couldn't…"

"Couldn't what?"

"Ask him to drive me. Like he's a servant!"

"But Maria. He _is_ a servant."

Her pleading look was enough; she didn't have to say a word before he relented. Franz _did_ take a bit of getting used to. "All right. I'll ask him to do it, just this once. I'm sure you'll have Franz eating out of your hand in no time." He cast about for a more pleasant topic of discussion. "Look. While you're in town, why don't you buy yourself something? I know! A dress! That's it – a dress to get married in."

Another mistake. Her eyes narrowed. "What's _wrong_ with my clothes?"

"Nothing. Nothing, Maria. I merely thought that you might like something- look, you're a young woman, you're not even getting a proper wedding, and I thought that you-"

"Well, you thought wrong," she said crossly. For a split second, she was back in the foyer again on that first day, awkward and uncertain, with her intimidating new employer appraising her wardrobe. She felt some of the joy slowly leaking out of her.

It had been magical, last night, Georg thought to himself, but with all that spontaneous passion he hadn't exactly thought things through in his usual manner. He was beginning to realize that she had no idea what she'd signed on for.

"I want your life to be comfortable, Maria. Easy. I want to indulge you, and what's wrong with that? The truth of the matter is, you are marrying a wealthy man, and your life is going to be very different now."

"I'm not marrying you because you're rich," she bristled. "In fact, I'm marrying you in _spite _of it."

The tense silence was broken by the sound of the breakfast bell, and a clattering pack of children running through the foyer. She rose and went to the door.

"Maria, wait," he said desperately. He ran his hand over his face. "I've made a mess of things this morning. If you only knew – when you snuck up on me this morning, and I saw your face, I didn't know whether to shout with joy, or take you into my arms. But somehow, all I could do was talk about logistics, and remind you at every turn how much you are giving up to marry me. "

"Giving up? What am I giving up?" She turned back toward him and spoke slowly, as though she were figuring things out for herself while she was speaking.

"Last night." She looked at the floor, feeling her cheeks turn pink again. "You know perfectly well I've never done _anything_ like that before. I shocked _myself_, the way I behaved!" She swallowed, and forced the next words out of her mouth. "But I loved it. I _loved_ it. It felt so … natural, being with you that way."

She still couldn't bear to look at him. "And it feels so right to become their mother. It's just that the rest of this makes me feel uncomfortable. Self-conscious. I have to remind myself that all of this" – she waved her hands in the air – "it's part of who you are, isn't it? If I want you, I have to sign on for all of it. I _am_ signing on for all of it. I just need some time. And some encouragement, that's all."

"Maria. Look at me." He smiled, tenderly. "There is nothing you need to change, nothing you need to do, except marry me."

She fell silent, wishing she were brave enough to say the rest of what she was thinking: that she needed him to kiss her. To hold her. To make her feel the way she'd felt last night.

They stood there for several long moments. The smile slowly left his face, leaving behind an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Perhaps he _could read_ her mind? His dark blue gaze slipped from her eyes, lingered on her mouth for a moment, and then appraised her, slowly, all the way down to the ground and back up again.

He walked toward her, brushing by her so closely it must have been deliberate, and reached around her for the doorknob. There was a sharp click as he locked the door, and a moment later, she was in his arms. He kissed her, deeply, hungrily, hands tangling in her hair as he urged her closer, as though he was trying without words to tell her how much he loved her. It was as though they hadn't been apart at all since last night.

Then he pulled his mouth from hers, abruptly, breathing hard. He held her tightly against him for a minute, just long enough to remind her of the powerful passion he held in check. "Just in case you forgot," he whispered.

"They're waiting for us," she managed to say, half-dazed. Surely that kiss would sustain her through an eventful day.

He ran a finger along her jaw line, and then smoothed her hair where he had ruffled it. "One more thing," he said. "I will try to do what I can to make all of this easy for you – your new life. But don't worry about trying to please me. I am much less interested in what you're wearing and much more interested in what's under-"

"Don't," she warned him, smiling. "We're already late for breakfast."

"All right," he said. "And if you don't mind some advice, pick your battles. If you try to resist everything on every front, you'll exhaust yourself, and that's the last thing I want. You're going to need your strength," he smirked.

"You are outrageous, Captain," she laughed, but then she added, more seriously, "I just wish that I could have you, and still be…just the governess, you know?"

"Oh, but that would be impossible," he corrected her.

"Why?"

"Because-" he leaned close to her, close enough to whisper again, "I'm an honorable man, and men of honor do not do to governesses what I'm going to do to you." Grinning, he unlocked the door and stepped aside, waiting for her to leave the room and pausing just long enough on the way out to land a proprietary little pat on her bottom.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Two hours later, he was on the road to Salzburg. Everything was happening according to plan. As he'd predicted, the children had been simply overjoyed at the news – in fact, they were so wrapped up in Maria that they'd barely noticed when he slipped out of the room. He had, of course, caught the disappointed looks on the older girls' faces when they learned there would be no elaborate church wedding, but they'd get over that soon enough. He was truly grateful for Frau Schmidt's warm good wishes and Franz – well, there probably wasn't anything that would make that man crack a smile, and if there were, it would be a few weeks' exposure to Maria's sunny temperament.

Planful as always, he thought ahead to his errands in Salzburg. He needed to stop at the jeweler, for the wedding rings, but perhaps first he ought to see about the special license. Axel Barth had served under him in the Navy, and throughout his long service as Mayor of Salzburg, he'd always made clear that there was nothing he wouldn't do for his Captain – quickly and discreetly, if necessary. Georg wasn't sure exactly how he was going to broach the subject with Axel, but surely two men who had fought for their lives side-by-side could negotiate the embarrassing topic of a special marriage license. Couldn't they?

Hastily tucking that question aside, Georg distracted himself with pleasant thoughts about tomorrow, the day Maria would become his bride. City Hall in the morning, with only the children and Max in attendance, a special lunch, perhaps, at one of the best restaurants in town, but the real anticipation was about what lay ahead, the wedding night he had planned at the Helmhof Inn.

Although it was just a few kilometers outside Salzburg, he hadn't been there in years. But a phone call this morning had confirmed that the inn was still open, quiet and luxurious as always, and yes, the third-floor suite was available, with the enormous canopied bed, its large windows shaded by huge trees that hid a spacious private balcony. It might even be cool enough on the wedding night to light the fireplace. And of course, for a price, the manager was more than willing to block off the rest of the third floor, just to assure the Captain and his guest – for he hadn't told them any more than that – all the privacy they might desire.

His mind was crowded with memories of the night before – how sweet she'd tasted, the enticing little moans and sighs that met his every caress, the way her eyes flashed beneath her lowered lashes until he'd been seriously tempted to whisk her upstairs and into his bed. He hadn't really known what to expect with Maria, and her mix of innocence and passion drove him wild. A mountain girl in lace and silk. His fingers itched to touch her again.

Without warning, a car moving in the other direction honked loudly and swerved away from Georg's car, and he realized he'd been so distracted by the thought of the wedding night to come that he'd barely avoided an accident.

As the towers of the city grew nearer, he tried to distract himself. Surely there was some other errand that needed attention, or something else he wanted to buy her? His mind returned to their awkward conversation about the wedding dress. Understandably, she would need some time to adjust to the realities of her new life. He briefly considered stopping to buy her a dress – he could probably guess at the size. Or even some lingerie? He'd bought a gift or two of that nature in his time, and he knew what magic it could work.

Without further mishap, fortunately, he had soon parked and presented himself at the Mayor's chambers. Although the bored young woman who greeted him didn't recognize his name and greeted him indifferently, he met with a warm welcome as soon as he entered Axel's office. The two men shook hands heartily.

"Georg. It's been too long. So wonderful to see you! How is your family?"

"All well, all well. And Mathilde? Your children?"

"Fine, fine. I'm going to be a grandfather at Christmas, believe it or not!" the mayor boasted. "You know, Georg, I tried to stay in touch with you the last few years – I know how hard you took her death - but it seemed as though you were always somewhere else!"

"Yes, yes," Georg acknowledged. "It – it was a difficult time. Until this summer, I was spending a great deal of time in Vienna, and traveling elsewhere on business, but recently…"

"Of course!" Axel beamed. "I've heard the goss- er, the news. Elsa Schrader. I heard you brought her here to meet your family. So there are wedding bells in the offing?"

"No. I mean yes. I mean - look, Axel, I need to ask you a favor. About getting married, as it happens. I'm not – uh – I'm not marrying Elsa. We've parted ways. Amicably, I might add. Recently, I became very fond of a young woman, and she of me, and I've asked her to marry me. But we'd like to do it, well, simply. Quickly. Without a lot of fuss. I'd like to arrange a special license, to marry her as soon as possible."

As he fumbled his way through this speech, Georg watched Axel's expression turn from confusion, to shock, to knowing amusement. To his eternal mortification, the mayor winked before responding.

"Ah, Georg. Still the ladies' man. Twenty years of marriage didn't cure you of all of your bad habits, I see. Although the young captain I knew would have been more careful."

Biting back a retort, Georg felt his face flush with anger. Axel ought to know him better than that – although truth be told, his motives for marrying Maria so quickly were not exactly pure. If things had turned out not very differently, the situation could have justified Axel's suspicions.

"It's not like that, Axel. Not at all. I'm not – those days are far behind me." Maria's reasoning came back to him. "It's just that – with the times as difficult as they are, and the circumstances of a second marriage and a large family – it seemed more appropriate, somehow."

Axel nodded, somberly. "I should have known. The Captain I knew would never do anything dishonorable. I'm surprised though, about the young lady. I know my own daughters would never have stood for it. They felt they deserved the best weddings I could give them and I agreed. Ah, well, I'll do whatever I can to help you. You know that. Bring your bride here tomorrow, any time before noon. I'll not only issue the license, it will be my honor to do the ceremony myself, and we'll have you squared away before you can say the Emperor's name. Of course, people _will_ talk – and I'll do my best to curb the gossip where I can."

The two men talked for a while longer, but Georg was too distracted to hold up his end of the conversation. He found himself gripped by a powerful mix of emotions he could barely name – shame? Exasperation? Grief? All he knew was that he needed to escape this office, to get somewhere he could think. As quickly as possible, he thanked Axel for his help.

"I'll see you tomorrow, then? With your bride. And your children, I assume?" the mayor asked.

"Yes. N-no. Yes, of course. Thank you, Axel."

And then he was hurtling out the door, down the stairs and out into the street as quickly as he could. He didn't even remember retrieving his car, or the headlong rush into a quieter part of the city he rarely visited. But once he arrived at the cemetery, he felt reassured somehow, calm and resolute.

He spent an hour or more at the grave. He didn't talk to her exactly; he wasn't that sentimental or superstitious. But he'd forgotten how much her presence, even in his memory, not only soothed him but gave him strength and confidence. When he walked away, shoulders squared, his mind had cleared. He drove back into town, stopped briefly at the jeweler's, and then made his way back to the villa.

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

Maria floated through the morning on a cloud of joy. She never quite made it to the schoolroom with the children, since she couldn't walk more than a step or two without one or another of them grabbing her hand, clutching at her leg or hanging on her arm as though they couldn't get enough contact with her.

As Georg had predicted, they were beyond thrilled. Within an hour, Gretl had asked, "Can I call you 'Mother'?"

Maria stopped to ponder for a moment before replying, "Well, if you'd like to, sweetheart, I would be honored. But you must promise me, all of you, that you will never forget your mother who gave birth to you, and that you will honor her memory. Even you little ones who can't remember her. She loved all of you very much and she loved your father too, just like I do."

She watched Kurt and Friedrich exchange satisfied little nods. Louisa, of course, had to pose a challenge: "Suppose I didn't want to call you Mother? Can I call you Maria?"

"No, that won't do," Maria said, firmly. "But I'm sure we will work something out, Louisa."

The oldest girls did seem a little subdued, perhaps, but Maria wasn't entirely surprised – their memories of her mother must be achingly clear, and it was one thing to love a governess, and quite another to have your father put her in your mother's place. As the morning went on, she watched Liesl and Louisa retreat into a corner of the salon and whisper, casting dark looks her way. Finally, Maria decided to face her problems directly.

Hoisting Gretl out of her lap for the tenth time that morning, she joined them. "Girls? I – I know this may be difficult for you. I know you loved your mother, but you must not feel like I am trying to replace her."

Liesl's eyes widened in surprise. "It's not that, Fraulein. I'm happy about it, really I am."

Louisa nodded in agreement. "It's just that-"

"Just that what? Out with it."

"Why can't you have a proper wedding? What's the rush? ," asked Louisa.

Liesl picked up the complaint, "And why can't you have a long dress and flowers and, well, bridesmaids, and a cake, and…"

Cautiously, Maria asked, "Why is that important to you? Wouldn't you rather we have things all nice and normal as soon as possible? A wedding is only one day, you know, and a dress is just a dress."

She could see, though, that the girls didn't understand at all. Before she could find another way to explain it, there was an interruption.

"Fraulein Maria?" Frau Schmidt stood in the doorway. "May I trouble you for a moment?"

"Of course," Maria said, following the housekeeper into the foyer.

"First off, Fraulein, let me congratulate you once more. It's wonderful to see the Captain and his children so happy again. And if there is anything I can do, well…" she trailed off for a moment, before handing Maria a sheet of paper. "I know the wedding isn't until tomorrow, but, well, I thought you might want to approve this for the coming week."

"What's this?" It appeared to be some kind of schedule.

"Why, it's the menus. For the week. You'll be the lady of the house now, and the Baroness – that is, the late Baroness von Trapp – she always approved the menus."

"Oh, well," Maria said hastily, handing the schedule back to Frau Schmidt. "I don't need to trouble you about that. I mean, who's been doing it since… well, obviously things went on very smoothly around here, can't they just continue?"

Frau Schmidt nodded. "I know. It's a lot to get used to. But you will. I'm sure the Captain expects it."

Maria bit back a grin, remembering the exact nature of the Captain's most urgent expectations. Mindful of her conversation with Georg before breakfast, she told herself to give things a chance.

"Look, Frau Schmidt," she said, drawing the housekeeper into a chair. "Let's sit here for a moment. Tell me more. Obviously I don't have experience with this aspect of the – er – job. Tell me about how the Baroness spent her days."

The housekeeper instantly warmed to the subject. "First and foremost, him. When he was at home, she was always available to him, and attentive to his needs. I know you know how demanding he can be."

You don't know the half of it, Maria smiled to herself. She pushed away a sudden memory of the way his hands had explored every curve in her body last night with complete assurance, and tried to ignore the sensations that uncoiled within her at the thought. But out loud, she merely said, "That sounds like something I can do."

"He sees to his own wardrobe," the housekeeper went on, "but there are always books and music he wants ordered, specific wines, the farm, his correspondence. And I would say that she was also entirely focused on the children. Their education, their health, their clothing, their diet, their behavior. Everything, really."

Maria felt her confidence growing. Taking care of the Captain and his children was something she could happily do for the rest of her life.

"Let me see that," she said, gesturing to the schedule Frau Schmidt had laid aside. "Now that I think of it – I've often thought that the children ought to have more fruit, and fewer rich desserts. What could we do about that?"

Frau Schmidt offered an approving little nod, and after they made some adjustments, she went on. "And the Baroness, she did enjoy entertaining. And shopping – she loved beautiful clothes, closetsful of them, and things for the house."

Maria's heart sunk just a little bit. Those weren't things she knew anything about. She reminded herself that things could change with time. It had barely been 24 hours since she'd been in Reverend Mother's office, begging not to be sent back to the villa, after all!

"Look what time it is!' Frau Schmidt exclaimed. "The Captain was very clear that I was to oversee lunch so you could go to the Abbey. I expect Franz is waiting outside for you. Go on, now."

As quickly as she could, Maria said goodbye to the children, and gathered a few things for her excursion. On her way out of the house, she almost collided with two housemaids who fled from her friendly greeting with a flood of nervous giggles. She looked after them, puzzled, and then it hit her: she would never be Fraulein Maria, the governess, again. Instead, she and the Captain were a topic of_ conversation_. The household staff must be buzzing with excitement and, undoubtedly, damaging gossip. And here she'd tried so hard to set an example for the younger girls on the staff! Maria wondered whether the gossip would fade over time or if she would be permanently marked as the governess who had seduced, or been seduced by, her employer.

Shaking her head, she scurried outside, only to be brought up short by the sight of Franz standing by the open rear door on the passenger's side of the car. Barely acknowledging her presence, he didn't move a muscle, and so, awkwardly, she strolled over to where he stood.

"Good morning, Franz," she said, deliberately provoking him. Surely he would have to respond if she spoke to him.

"Good afternoon, Fraulein," he said, crisply, with a barely detectible tone of sarcastic reproach. And then he fell silent. There was nothing for her to do but climb into the back seat and endure the silent ride to the Abbey.

When they pulled up to the gates, he asked, "When shall I return for you?"

"Oh, whenever it's convenient," she said uncertainly, only to meet his withering gaze in the mirror.

"Whenever it's convenient for _you_. Fraulein."

"Oh, well then," she said. She searched her memory for the way Georg spoke to Franz, the way he asked politely for help while making clear that there wasn't really any choice in the matter. She finally summoned up a reasonably confident, "If you wouldn't mind, Franz, please return for me in two hours."

The two hours flew by all too fast, with joyful smiles and hugs all around from the sisters and her fellow postulants. The Reverend Mother was positively beaming. At least until, in the privacy of her office, Maria explained about their plans for the wedding.

"You're not getting married here at the Abbey? Or at the village church at least?"

"Oh, Mother, of course we'll have the marriage blessed by the Church, it's just that – well, you know, with the country in so much trouble, and it's a second marriage of course…"

"It's not _your _second marriage," Reverend Mother pointed out. "What's the hurry? Of course, I know you, Maria, and I know the fine man he is, but people _will_ talk. Weddings aren't just for the bride and the groom, you know. They are a visible sign of the sacred love between a man and a woman. Just something to think about, you know."

How could Maria tell an elderly nun that she and her groom were in a rush to get to the wedding night? A little flutter of desire ran through her at the very thought, and she felt her cheeks turn pink. Fortunately, Reverend Mother misinterpreted the blush, and the conversation went in a different direction.

"Oh Maria. How I wish your poor mother were still alive, or that you had a sister, an aunt, someone who could advise you about preparing for marriage. I'm afraid I can't be much help."

Maria squirmed in her seat, aware of just how much about love between men and women she'd already figured out on her own. All too soon, Maria's visit came to an end, and she was on her way out of the Abbey's gate, promising to return as soon as she could. She tried not to mind the way her conversation with Reverend Mother hung over her happy visit to the Abbey, like a little cloud.

And there was Franz waiting for her outside the gate. She was careful to wait until he came around to open the door, but before getting in, impulsively, she decided to try again and pull the dour old butler out of his shell. "You haven't congratulated me yet, Franz."

"Congratulations, Fraulein," he said, tersely.

"Why, thank you," she said, in a dignified tone, as though she hadn't just practically forced the words out of him. To her surprise, though, he spoke again.

"I understand the Captain is insisting on an – ah – hasty wedding."

"Y-yes, yes," she responded. Although "hasty" sounded awfully disreputable, somehow. "I mean, we thought it was more suitable-"

Franz interrupted. "Captain von Trapp is first and foremost a man of honor. Under the circumstances…"

He didn't have to finish his sentence, because to Maria's horror, his meaning was all too clear. Franz's eyes slowly traveled away from her face, resting on her abdomen for a long moment or two before his eyes returned to hers and he as much as smirked.

They rode home in stony silence. Maria concentrated on holding back the unshed tears that burned her eyes, and swallowing the occasional sob that rose in her throat. As soon as the car slowed to a stop outside the villa, and without waiting for Franz to open the door, she sprang from the car and hurried into the house. She was met by an enthusiastic welcoming party: Kurt, Brigitta and Marta, who smothered her with hugs and kisses. "She's home!" they called to their siblings.

She wanted nothing more than to follow them upstairs to the nursery, to crawl back into the comforting role of governess, only to remember, miserably, that she could never go back to being just the governess again. And in any event, there was a difficult conversation to be had first with her Captain. Secretly, she was beginning to hope he hadn't been able to arrange the special license.

She found him at his desk, finishing a telephone call.

"Yes, yes, of course, darling. I understand. It's just a bit of a rush, that's all. I'm sure she'll love you too. All right, then, goodbye."

He looked up then, smiling at the curiosity written all over Maria's face. "That was my sister," he explained.

"You have a sister?" she asked. So apparently, he'd been able to arrange the _hasty_ wedding, as Franz put it.

"Yes, I do. I was just sharing our good news with her. It's odd, isn't it, how little we know about each other? There's a lot you don't know about me. And I don't know everything about you either, including where you were the last two weeks, come to think of it."

He stopped to study her face. Her eyes were flat and distant, their usual spark completely absent.

"What is it? Maria? Are you all right?"

"Of course," she said bravely. "I'm wonderful. I had a lovely visit at the Abbey, and Frau Schmidt has been so kind, and…it's almost tomorrow, isn't it, that's exciting enough! I suppose you got the – the license?"

There was no putting it off. Sighing deeply, he rose from the desk and went to close the door, wishing that he was closing it for a more enjoyable purpose. He took her hand and guided her to a seat.

"Maria," he said gently. "It's no use."

Relief flooded over her. "Wait," she pleaded. "Let me be the one to say it. We need to wait, don't we? We need to have a proper wedding – not for us, but for the children, and Reverend Mother, and because, well, you are an honorable man. It's the one thing everyone _knows_ about you. I love you too much to force you into something that seems otherwise. Even if it's not true."

"You know perfectly well that no one forces me to do _anythin_g I don't want to do," he said, with a grim chuckle. "And anyway, they'd be right to suspect my motives, which are anything _bu_t honorable. I've been skulking around all day as though I'm arranging an assignation with – with a mistress," he said, so distastefully that it was almost comical.

"I got the license. I got the rings. And I love you, Maria, but I can't do it. Not this way. I don't much care what people will think about me – and they'd be right, wouldn't they, in this case? But I can't bear what they will say about you. You deserve better. After what you've done for me. For my family. You deserve to be celebrated, to be sung up the aisle by a choir. And there's something else. There is so little _hope_ left in Austria. So little idealism. To me, this marriage is like a ray of light, not something to hide away. Can you possibly see it that way?" he pleaded.

Disappointed as she was, Maria was overcome, too, with gratitude and love for this remarkable man. "Reverend Mother had it almost right. Weddings are for everyone _except_ the bride and groom," she whispered, brushing away a few impatient tears.

"Two months, darling," he comforted her, although he was feeling fairly miserable about things himself. He drew her into his arms. "A proper engagement and a proper wedding. We'll make the arrangements tomorrow. And think how happy the girls will be."

"I suppose," she sighed. "We'll have to make the best of it. Maybe I'll allow you to buy me a dress or two after all. And I'll have the days to learn all about the household from Frau Schmidt. As for the nights, well, I suppose even the most proper engagement has a few improper moments, doesn't it?" A wicked smile tugged at her lips, and she turned in his arms to face him, only to be met by a surprisingly grim expression.

"Maria. When I said "proper" engagement, that's what I meant. That's the whole point. We can't go on living this way. In the house together, I mean. You've got to go stay at the Abbey until the wedding. We'll visit you, of course, and..."

"Oh, no, Georg, please don't make me do that. What am I saying? You _can't _make me do that!"

"But you love the Abbey, Maria!"

"This is my home now. My family. You. And the children."

He shook his head. "The only other thing I can suggest is that I can go on a very long trip, but that would leave you to fend for yourself, and plan the wedding." 

"You can't possibly do that. Your children would miss you."

"They'll miss you even more when you go to the Abbey, but there's nothing to be done about it, I'm afraid. At least this time they'll know you're coming back." 

"I don't understand this at all," she burst out. "We've lived under this roof together all summer! Surely no one could think that with a houseful of children, we would…And what about," she sputtered, "you, and your lady friend. If Herr Detweiler was enough of a chaperone for you, why can't he..?"

Georg rolled his eyes. "Max was a good enough chaperone because we had both been married before. And the aristocracy are far more forgiving of their own."

"We both know that people are going to talk about this no matter what we do, Georg, you said so yourself," she argued.

"It isn't only what people think. It's for your protection too. If you go on living here, I'm not going to be able to keep my hands off you."

"I don't want protection," she protested.

"No, but you need it, we both do. Or we are going to end up with one of those enormous seven-month babies, and someday – maybe not right away – our daughters are going to count on their fingers and figure it out, and what are we going to tell them?"

He meant his words to shock her, and they did. He went on, gently, "What happened last night. I don't want it to happen again. When I came to find you last night, I didn't anticipate that things would be like this between us, not right away, anyway. That you would awaken something in me that I thought was gone forever. I can't undo that and I wouldn't, even if I could. Things have changed and we can't go back and pretend otherwise. The next time I won't stop, and neither will you. I could barely think of anything today besides…" he stopped, afraid to reveal too much about the way the memory of her body underneath his had haunted his day. "Admit it, Maria. You thought about it all day too."

"Not even once," she lied, unconvincingly, even as his words made her heart race and her skin tingle. "And anyway, last night was different! Yesterday, I was out of my mind with denial and heartache and joy and a million other feelings. And you had quite a day of your own, starting out engaged to one woman and ending the day engaged to another! Surely now that things are calmer, well, can't we simply trust ourselves to set some boundaries and promise not to cross them?"

He looked at her doubtfully. "We both know you never met a rule you could follow, darling. What makes you think you could do that?"

"Of course I could."

"No, you couldn't."

"Yes, I could." 

He laughed out loud, although there was a dangerous gleam in his dark blue eyes. "So you're telling me that the same young woman who just last night was going to let me-"

"Don't," she begged. "Don't say another word." It was true, she'd craved his touch all day. But she was determined to convince him that they could manage to stay under one roof until the wedding. He had all the advantages, though: not only more experience, but the ability to talk about what was happening between them in a way that left her all at once mortified and unbearably aroused. If he talked that way to her, she was going to be helpless against him, and then he'd have made his point. She was too stubborn to let him win, especially if it might mean going back to the Abbey.

"I see," he purred. "You mean, our kisses will be only the most chaste? Feather-light? Utterly devoid of taste and heat? Is that what you want, Maria?" He started to move toward her, so gradually that she didn't notice at first. Too late, she began to back away from him, forcing herself to keep her tone light and confident.

"Indeed, Georg, I do like the sound of that, yes, feather-light and chaste. Are you or are you not a gentleman?"

"Oh, definitely a gentleman. And you, of course, are a lady. A proper lady. The problem is, I don't need your bare arms and soft neck to be utterly seduced by you. No matter how modestly you're attired, no matter how chaste your kisses, I know what you taste like now, and my fingers have memorized the rest of you. Lace garters. And satin – now, that surprised me, I must admit, that was a mystery I pondered all day today. Did you wear satin knickers at the Abbey? No wonder you didn't fit in there."

The long, silky tendrils of his voice coiled around her, and the look in his eyes nearly stole her breath away. He was moving closer and closer to her. Even though she'd craved his touch all day, there was something a little precarious about the situation, and she kept backing away. Suddenly, she found herself seated with a thump on the sofa. He was sitting next to her, so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, while his palm skated gently above her knee.

Her heart was kicking against her chest, now, and she could practically feel his words setting her nerves on fire.

His thumb found the spot on her neck where he'd left his mark last night, the place that turned her to liquid fire. "I'm not even sure we can sit on the same piece of furniture until after we are wed. It's just too…" his lips grazed her ear, and he whispered, "…tempting."

She turned her face toward him, her lips parted –

And the next thing she knew, he was on his feet, towering over her. "And that, _Fraulein_, is what happens when we're left to our own devices."

She gasped, half-mad with passion and just as outraged. "Oooh, you- you – scoundrel. How dare you make fun of me that way?" 

He shook his head, regretfully, and in fact he wasn't laughing at all. "I didn't do it to make fun, Maria. Truly. I did it to make a point. It's at least as frustrating to me as it is to you." He intended to make a little speech about how she needed to go back to the Abbey, but one look into her eyes, their mix of vulnerability and lust and anger, and he couldn't go on.

"Look," he said, "I have an idea. "I am going to ask my sister to come and stay with us for as long as she can."

"You mean, as a chaperone?"

"I want you to meet each other, first of all. But yes, she will be a chaperone. It will be hard- uh, more difficult for me. For both of us. But I can't bear to send you away, if the truth be told. I'll just have to have the locks taken off the doors for now, that's all," he smirked.

"It's like a public announcement that we have no self-control and can't be trusted to act like reasonable people," she complained. 

"Which we've just proved. Would you like me to prove it again?" he smiled wickedly.

She rolled her eyes. "Let's go find the children and break the news to them. You're right, the girls will be thrilled. I just hope we can hide our disappointment."

He took her hand. "I promise you, there will be some advantages to the delay."

"Such as?"

"Well, now I can take the time to woo you."

"Woo me?"

"Yes. It is an ancient custom wherein a man... that's me... tries to make a woman... that's _definitely _you... fall in love with him."

"But I'm already in love with you."

"Good. That will make it so much easier."

"Hmm... what does this wooing involve exactly?"

"Oh, flowers... candlelight dinners for two... long walks along the lake in the moonlight."

"It sounds terribly romantic."

"It will be if I do it right."

"Tell me, will there be kissing?"

"Yes."

"A lot of kissing?"

"Enough."

"I don't think there will ever be enough kissing."

"I think _you_ are trying to woo _me,_ my dear Fraulein."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

**A/N: We don't own TSOM or anything about it. **


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